


How You Survived The War

by kizamon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kizamon/pseuds/kizamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor suffers PTSD and nightmares before her final encounter with Corypheus. Her fears of failure cause her to fall ill and her friends try to help her recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How You Survived The War

A dark path lay before her, a tunnel of trees and bush, calling her forward. Every step she took was labored, her heart was pounding and her palms sweating. She’d seen so many horrors, so many of her friends abandoning her and the inquisition because of her failure. She knew this was a dream and she knew that the closer she got to finishing the maze, the closer she got to waking. She didn’t want to wake just yet. She would have to endure her followers and friends’ reactions when she was conscious, and for now she would rather deal with her subconscious.  
First it was Cassandra, telling her that she’d failed; “The breach isn’t sealed,” Cassandra’s voice echoes through her dreamscape; she was not and could never be what Cassandra had hoped. She was a failure, everything Cassandra had feared she would be. Andraste’s mark was nothing more than an illusion, an illusion that had tricked both her and Cassandra, given them hope, given them purpose. And now that was gone. She had no purpose, and she was destined to fail over and over.  
Next was Leliana; as always she stone faced, always hard. Leliana, who would die for her, who would give anything to achieve the goal. Leliana who had given up her own morality to get what needed done accomplished. And now she stood before Leliana, and she could see the disappointment and frustration in her gaze. She’d failed to do what was necessary, she hadn’t pushed herself hard enough, hadn’t done what was necessary. She was never going to be as persistent, as strong as Leliana, and the disappointment in Leliana’s eyes crushed the Inquisitor.  
Josephine stepped out from behind Leliana, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was over, and her heroine had failed her. The Inquisitor swallowed hard looking at the ambassador’s flushed cheeks and wrecked expression. In contrast to her normally proud and eloquent posture she was slouched and small, holding her arms across her chest and shrinking into herself. She looked beaten, dejected and lost. The Inquisitor tried to move to be with her but some invisible force kept her still. She stared in horror as Josephine’s eyes found hers and they turned cold and hard. She was angry. She was angry with the Inquisitor, and she would never forgive her for her failure. She would never forgive her for not being stronger.  
Passing the women the Inquisitor came upon Dorian, sitting on a cliff, staring off into the distance. He was quiet but when he turned to see her approach he stood and moved to embrace her. She opened her arms but suddenly she was falling, instead of being embraced she’d moved straight through him over the cliff’s edge. He couldn’t protect her from the storm she would face after waking. When she landed she was in her chambers.  
It was dark outside and her room was lit only by the candles on her messy desk. She walked toward her bed, the exhaustion pushing her dream self to sleep. As she crawled under the sheets she felt another’s presence; she reached for him instinctively, grasping for his warmth, for his comforting embrace. She found his arms and pulled them around herself, hoping he would do the rest of the work and pull her close like he usually did when she came home late from operations. Instead he stayed motionless, his arms heavy around her but asleep. She reached to feel his face, touch his cheek, wake him and make him kiss her. As she stroked his cheeks a soft red light began to resonate from under the sheets. She reached down and as she pulled them away, her eyes took in the sharp spike of red lyrium protruding from his chest. As it began to glow he began to wake, his eyes adjusting and taking in her face. Cullen’s eyes were cold and emotionless, and as the Inquisitor opened her mouth to ask him if he was alright, his hand clamped down around her mouth. Soon he was straddling her, his hand still over her mouth, while his other hand grabbed her throat and he started to strangle her. Her screams were muffled by his large hand and soon her vision became spotted. But just as her dream self was about to die she was standing, standing and alone. There was a large graveyard before her and she stumbled forward, still trying to catch her breath from Cullen’s aggressive attack. She fell and caught herself on a grave stone, and then sank to her knees before it. She stared at the ground and let the tears flow from her eyes, staining her pants and pooling in her palms. Finally she looked up and read the grave stone: “Here lies Inquisitor Trevelyan” it read, “False Herald, False Leader, False Savior.”  
They were all there when she woke, Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra, even Dorian stood in the corner, watching from a distance. Leliana was bringing a cup of water over to her as Cullen slipped behind her and forced her to lean back on him for support so she could sit up. She sipped the water gratefully, but drank only a little, handing it back to Leliana and then curling up against Cullen’s chest rubbing the spot where she’d dreamt the lyrium had been. He reached up and took her hand and kissed her palm, smiling down at her anxiously. She couldn’t bring herself to smile back. She stared at him with an empty expression, trying to force the fear away, and failing.  
Failing. Always failing.  
She tried to stop the tears, but she couldn’t. It was like a fountain, and once turned on she was unsure how to turn it off. The tears soaked Cullen’s shirt and he stroked her back as she openly sobbed into his chest. 

She didn’t sleep, but she tried to. There was always someone in her room, watching her, making sure she was alright. They wanted her to sleep but sleep was no friend to her. She feared her dreams, feared the reality they forced her to face. The reality of her impending failure. The reality of her friends’ thoughts and their feelings toward her.  
People came and went, but she kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep, keeping her breath shallow. She knew when Cullen was there and when he was gone; he would sit by her bed and rest his head next to her arm, holding her hand tightly, desperately waiting for her to wake up. She knew when Cassandra was there, she paced around anxiously and mumbled to herself. Leliana was silent but the Inquisitor knew her presence too well and could tell when she came. Dorian spoke to her as if he knew she was awake, but she never responded. He did healing spells and worked on charms hoping that he could help her somehow, even though what was wrong was nothing he could fix, and she was certain he knew this.  
She had finally dozed off for a few minutes when she was woken by a harsh voice from across the room.  
"You don’t think I’ve tried?” the voice said through gritted teeth, “There isn’t much I can do when there’s nothing physically wrong. Physically she’s at her peak. She is strong and in shape. She could probably run fifty miles without getting winded,” This was Dorian, impatient and angry with whomever he was speaking.  
“Then what is the problem?” Cullen’s voice cut into her like a knife, she could feel his frustration and worry seeping in through every pore. He didn’t know she could hear, she’d been ‘unconscious’ for the past ten hours.  
“Her mental state is unstable. She’s been through so much, she’s reverting inward,” Dorian said, this time with a little more patience, knowing the news would crush Cullen. She could tell by Dorian’s tone that he was trying to be gentle. He so rarely was, it caused her stomach to clench up.  
Cullen was quiet, trying to understand what he meant, she was sure.  
“Nevine was fine two days ago, I don’t…” he whispered.  
Dorian sighed. She could hear shuffling and then felt a hand touch her cheek; it took everything in her not to flinch. “She left to take care of the last of the dark spawn, I don’t…”  
“It’s okay not to understand, Cullen.” Dorian said kindly. She forced the fresh batch of tears down, breathing heavily out of her nose, causing Cullen to grab her hand hopefully.  
“Why isn’t she waking up?” he asked.  
Dorian didn’t answer verbally.  
“When will she wake?” Cullen’s voice broke in a quiet sob.  
Again, no verbal answer.  
The tension in the room grew thick and she almost opened her eyes, desperate to see Cullen’s face. But fear kept them closed and after a while of silence, he dropped her hand and left.


End file.
